Chapter 39: Each Seeking Their Own Livelihood (Part 7)

On the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth lunar month, at the camp of the Jin army's Eastern Route (near Zhending Prefecture), the biting winter wind whipped snow against the ox-hide tents, emitting a dull, mournful wail.

Inside the tent, a heated debate raged, reflected on the faces of the Eastern Route commanders, some indignant, others deep in thought. The recent attempt to take Zhending Prefecture had failed, proving far less smooth than anticipated.

The commander-in-chief of the Eastern Route, the Second Prince Wanyan Woshu (Olibu), proposed his strategy: "Zhending Prefecture has put up a stubborn resistance, and we have suffered significant losses in this prolonged siege. Rather than breaking our teeth on this hard bone, it would be better to quit while we are ahead. We should send envoys south to Bianliang to threaten and extort tribute and wealth. Once Nianhan takes Taiyuan with the Western Route army, our two forces can unite, advance steadily, and strike directly at Bianliang."

Before he could finish, the deputy commander Wanyan Shemu abruptly stood up. As a younger brother of the late Emperor Taizu Aguda, he held high status and seniority, and his temperament had always been fierce and aggressive.

He slammed his thick palm onto the map-covered table, making the cups and saucers jump. "Woshu! What are you saying? Are you shrinking back just because the bone is a little hard? The Southerners are only acting tough because of their walls! I think they are only becoming more arrogant because they see you wavering!"

He jabbed his finger fiercely toward the direction of Bianliang on the map. "Wait for Nianhan? Nianhan is stuck in Taiyuan! The Song people are like deer that have slammed into a tree—they haven't even regained their senses yet! These Hebei cities may look sturdy, but they are already rotten to the core! We should strike directly at Bianliang while their administration is in ruins and their imperial court is still tearing itself apart! Once we capture their bird of an emperor, this lush landscape will be ours—what could we possibly lack?" His eyes glittered with the desire for a swift victory and immense spoils.

"Uncle Shemu is right!" The young and hot-headed general of ten thousand, the Fourth Prince Wuzhu, stood up suddenly. His voice resonated like a bell, filled with the sharp spirit of a newborn calf. "The Song people are spineless! Look at that emperor in Bianjing, who only knows how to play with calligraphy and paintings all day—what kind of strategy could he possibly have? What is the use of these border cities? As long as we break through to Bianliang and seize the emperor, the entire Great Song will collapse immediately! Why waste effort on these border towns? Our iron cavalry is like the wind; striking at the heart is the only logical path!"

Another veteran figure, Wanyan Chang (Talan), also spoke in a deep, echoing tone. A cousin of Aguda, though not as senior as Shemu, he was a key member of the royal clan with significant influence. "The Second Prince’s caution is well-intentioned, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The Southern court is in chaos; Cai Jing, Tong Guan, and their ilk have been in power for years, and the Hebei defense line has long become a sieve. Their capital looks grand, but the soldiers inside are more docile than sheep! Wherever our vanguard points, their courage will surely shatter! If we don't take it now, when will we? Are we waiting for them to catch their breath and gather all the reinforcements?"

The tent buzzed with agreement, most commanders nodding their heads, their faces full of greed for the wealthy Bianliang and contempt for the Song army.

All eyes eventually turned to the calm strategist in the corner, Liu Yanzong. Born into a long line of high-ranking officials in the Liao Dynasty, with ancestors who served as prime ministers and having earned his own Jinshi degree, his insight far surpassed that of the fierce Jurchen generals who did not fully understand the inner workings of the Southern court.

Meeting their gaze, he rose calmly. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear, carrying the composure of one who understands the ways of the world. "Generals, please be patient. The Second Prince’s desire to wait for Commander Nianhan is a prudent policy. However, the window of opportunity is fleeting."

He walked slowly to the map and pointed to Bianliang. "The malaise of the Southern court lies not in the strength of its border cities, but in the decay of its central administration! Zhao Ji is extravagant and employs the 'Six Thieves,' exhausting the nation's wealth and manpower, and has let the defenses of Hebei fall into total disrepair." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Zongwang, Shemu, and Wuzhu. "Our army took Yanjing and other places as if entering an empty land; the Southern court is already trembling with fear! This is no empty talk; this is the reality!"

His finger decisively traced across the Yellow River. "At this moment, we should press our advantage and strike deep! Zhending and Zhongshan have not fallen? No matter! The art of war says, 'Attack where they must save.' Bianliang is the heart that the Southern court must save! Why struggle bitterly over a single city or fortress? We should act with the force of thunder, bypassing the strongholds to strike at their vitals. Once our army appears before the walls of Bianliang, there will be no need for a hard siege; their court will be terrified, the cities of Hebei will instantly become isolated, and we can secure them with a mere dispatch! This is the superior strategy!"

Liu Yanzong's analysis precisely struck the fatal weakness of the Song Dynasty: the panic and inefficiency of its central core.

He added, "We have every confidence in crossing the river. According to reliable intelligence, the guards along the Yellow River are cowardly and incompetent, consisting of old and weak soldiers; upon hearing of our arrival, they will surely scatter like wind! Moreover, it is now the depth of winter, and parts of the Yellow River are frozen, allowing our cavalry to pass freely. The so-called natural barrier is no longer a defense!"

He looked around at the generals, his tone resolute. "The Southern court is likely unprepared! We should exploit our momentum and strike deep! If Bianliang trembles, the world is ours to take! If we hesitate and wait, giving their monarch time to calm the people, and allowing the Western Army to break through Commander Nianhan’s blockade to provide aid, or letting the reinforcements from various regions gather, then the window of opportunity will be lost forever!"

"Exactly! The Southern court is definitely not prepared!" Voices echoed through the tent.

"Those Southern generals are nothing but soft sheep!"

"What is the Yellow River? In winter, it's just a road paved for our cavalry!"

"Those eunuchs will wet their pants the moment they see our sabers!"

"We should listen to Liu Yanzong and strike straight to the gates of Bianliang to scare that Zhao boy to death!"

The commanders clamored, their emotions running high. The intelligence provided by Guo Yaoshi regarding the empty defenses of the Yellow River and the lax security of Bianjing, combined with Liu Yanzong’s prediction of the psychological collapse of the Song court, became their source of courage to press forward and venture deep into enemy territory. Of course, the root of their confidence lay in the two crushing defeats the Song army had suffered against the remnants of the Liao.

The sturdy cities of Hebei were irrelevant to the big picture. The fierce resistance in Zhending and Zhongshan was merely the struggle of isolated garrisons, and the Song court was utterly incapable of organizing a powerful field army to counterattack or effectively rescue Bianliang. The scattered Hebei forces were nothing to fear.

The encirclement of Bianliang would exert enormous pressure; the panic over the capital's fall would be enough to shatter the Song Dynasty's will to resist, forcing them to either surrender or pay a massive ransom (far exceeding the annual tribute they could get by standing still).

Reinforcement armies were too far away to help. A portion of the Western Army was bogged down by Nianhan’s forces at the Taiyuan battlefield and could not be spared. Other reinforcements were hastily assembled and slow to move; by the time they arrived, the fate of Bianliang would already be sealed.

The internal chaos of the Song court (the infighting between war and peace factions) would only further slow their response. The Yellow River, a supposed natural barrier, was a mere name; winter favored their movement, and the guards were pathetic. How could the Song people, who were soundly beaten by the remnants of the Liao, possibly be a match for the warriors of the Great Jin?

"Enough!" Woshu was irritated by the nearly unanimous clamor for radical action. He acknowledged that Liu Yanzong’s analysis was very reasonable, and the bravery of Shemu and Wuzhu was tempting, but the shadow of Nianhan being blocked on the Western front and the risks of deep penetration still made it difficult for him to decide.

He waved his hand impatiently. "This matter is of great importance! Let me think on it further. I must communicate with Nianhan before making a final decision! You may all withdraw!"

Upon hearing this, the commanders could not hide their disappointment and dissatisfaction. Shemu snorted, Wuzhu glared fiercely at his second brother, Wanyan Chang looked worried, and Liu Yanzong sighed slightly and bowed silently.

The commanders filed out of the tent, full of frustration and restlessness, leaving Woshu alone to face the flickering fire, lost in deep thought. The cold wind outside seemed to sharpen, signaling that a path full of risks, yet potentially leading to a massive victory, was awaiting his final decision. The cold air was permeated with the intense eagerness and unwillingness left behind by the departing generals.

...

The cold wind blew through this tightly guarded camp on the eastern side.

The wind carried scraps of snow, whipping the tents until they flapped loudly, yet it could not disperse the oppression that filled the air. There was no sign of the former clamor and arrogance of the "Ever-Victorious Army" here; only the heavy sound of Jin patrol boots on the snow and the metallic friction of blades and armor, which struck the nerves of everyone being watched in the camp.

Horses were strictly controlled, issued only when the bugle for battle sounded—the most naked humiliation for an army.

The once-mighty fifty thousand troops of the Ever-Victorious Army, accompanied by over a hundred thousand attached auxiliary troops, had once dominated the Yanyun region with such grandeur!

Now, five thousand of their elite had been seized directly by Wanyan Chang, as if their heart and soul had been cut away; fifteen thousand second-rate soldiers had been dismantled and scattered, stuffed into various Jin banners as servant soldiers; the remaining thirty thousand had been sent back to Yanjing to farm, euphemistically called "resting," but in reality, they had become sheep kept in scattered pens.

As for the leaders of these thirty thousand "sheep"—Guo Yaoshi, Zhang Linghui, Liu Shunren, and other original Ever-Victorious Army generals—the last bit of military power in their hands was being manipulated by the Jin through "mixing sand" tactics. Bohai generals and Jurchen supervisors were interspersed among them.

The generals could not move their troops, and the soldiers did not recognize their commanders. The main force of the Ever-Victorious Army, once as responsive as one’s own arm, had long been dismantled by this slow, poisonous tactic, turning them into fish on the Jin's chopping block, ready to be taken at any time.

Inside the tent, the charcoal fire crackled. Guo Yaoshi, now granted the surname Wanyan, held the symbolic gold plaque bestowed by the Jin emperor. He sat behind his desk, the lamplight casting his dejected and gloomy face into shadow. The cold texture of the gold plaque pressed against his palm; the surname "Wanyan" now felt more like a brand of humiliation.

"Clatter!"

The tent flap was flung open, and the cold wind ushered in a tall, vigorous figure. Guo Tiannv had not yet removed her combat gear. She strode into the tent, her chest heaving, her willow-leaf eyebrows arched, and her eyes burning with anger as she stared fixedly at her father.

"Father! Outside, it's all Jin patrols! A sentry every three steps, a post every five, watching us like prisoners and thieves!" Her voice was filled with indignation. "So many of our old brothers from Tie Prefecture have been torn apart! That coward Zhang Linghui is hiding in his hole without daring to make a sound! That old fox Liu Shunren is even eager to lick the boots of the Jin! Even so, they still don't trust us! Do they have to tear us to pieces before they are satisfied? Father, say something! Are we just going to endure this? To be spineless turtles for the rest of our lives?"

Guo Yaoshi raised his eyes, his weary gaze falling on his daughter’s flushed face, which was full of undisguised defiance and unwillingness.

"Tiannv, things have come to this, what else can be done?" Guo Yaoshi said with a desolate sense of resignation. "Your elder brother, Anguo, has already been sent to Liaoyang Prefecture as a hostage."

"It is called an appointment of rank, but it is actually a cage. Your father has no other way out."

His words pierced through all of Guo Tiannv’s anger and wishful thinking. Her elder brother, Guo Anguo, a man of equal valor, had been sent to the Jurchen lair as a hostage!

"Ah! I hate this!" Guo Tiannv stamped her foot hard on the ground and whispered, "Zhang Linghui! Liu Shunren! Two dog thieves! Short-sighted, shameless scoundrels!"

Every word was etched with deep-seated hatred. "If it weren't for them turning their backs in the heat of battle, fawning over the Jin, and betraying my father, we wouldn't be in this situation! Father, don't worry! As long as I find an opportunity, I will personally cut off their dog heads! I will chop them up and feed them to the wolves!"

"Silence!" Guo Yaoshi barked suddenly, his sharp eyes sweeping toward the tent entrance.

"There are ears behind the walls! This is not the same as when we were in Yanjing! As for Zhang and Liu, hmph, heaven will deal with them, but you must remember!" His tone suddenly turned stern. "Be cautious in your speech and actions! Do not cause trouble! Do not act on impulse! What time is it now? One wrong step and it will be a catastrophe! It will involve not only you and me, but the lives of our entire family!"